


Stimi swears he's not a dad

by cloudymoon_t



Category: UTMV, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Colds, Dysfunctional Family, mentions of gaster followers (undertale), mentions of sickness, motiftale, pictus is sick, stimi doesn't want to be called dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudymoon_t/pseuds/cloudymoon_t
Summary: Stimi has to deal with two rambunctious skeleton children, who he's supposed to eventually kill. One of them is sick, and the other's just a brat.
Kudos: 3





	Stimi swears he's not a dad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nosebleed-Inglishera](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nosebleed-Inglishera).



> Happy birthday, Chiara! This is being posted early because I'm planning for a second chapter.   
> The work in progress title was "Stimi's Bizarre Adventure." I almost kept it.

“Stimi learned about Determination with Chara, and hasn’t been the same since.”

“So, why are we doing this?” Cocila looked up at the doctor, his arm outstretched as Stimi injected a white, goopy substance into said arm. The faint red glow of the substance made him nervous. “And what is… this?”  
“We’re trying to increase the amount of determination in your soul. Safely. We’re trying to do it safely.” Stimi drew the plunger of the syringe back, pulling the syringe away from Cocila.  
“So this is determination? I thought it wasn’t safe for monsters.”  
“Normally it isn’t.” Stimi placed the syringe on the counter behind him, and watched as the spot where the determination was injected healed over. “But we’ve made some changes to it. Don’t worry, it’s been tested before.”  
Cocila looked at Stimi out of the corner of his eye, frowning. “The only test subjects you’ve got are me and Pictus, and I know you haven’t tried it on Pictus. So that’s a lie.”  
“Not a lie, you just never got the chance to meet the first test subject.”  
“Did he die?”  
Stimi didn’t answer, grabbing a cuff to monitor Cocila’s blood pressure. Once it was secured around his arm, he stared at the gauge, waiting for Cocila’s blood pressure to spike, and for this test to have failed.  
“Hey, doctor, did he die?” Cocila repeated himself, staring up at the skeleton in front of him.  
“Eventually.”  
“Why are we doing this? And is this gonna kill me?”  
“Hopefully not,” Stimi sighed, lightly glaring at Cocila. He had to remind himself that, no matter the intention for his creation, Cocila was a child, and his curiosity was only natural. Stimi also reminded himself that he used to be that way, and still was… somewhat. “Determination is what makes human souls last after death, and we’re hoping it’ll do the same to you and Pictus.”  
“What if it doesn’t? What if we melt and die?” Cocila grinned, watching Stimi become frightened.   
The cuff was ripped off of Cocila’s arm, with the data being scribbled onto some chart. Cocila chuckled to himself, watching as Stimi’s hands shook- though with anger or fear, he didn’t know. The doctor always acted this way whenever Cocila mentioned his and Pictus’ inevitable death. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume it was because the doctor didn’t want it to happen. But that was nonsense. Dr. Stimi Gaster was doing this to free the entire Underground. He wouldn’t care if two children died, so long as it meant he would accomplish his goal.  
“It’s not like it’ll matter. You just need our souls, right?” Cocila yawned.  
Stimi met his eye sockets. “I’m not a monster. We need your souls, but nobody wants you to suffer a cruel death.”  
“Dr. Pala does. He’s always going on about it, y’know.”   
“I don’t care what he wants. I’m the head of this project, he’ll have to go through me to get what he wants.” Stimi stood up. “Go to your brother, it’s almost time for dinner.”  
“Oh, yeah, if we’re brothers, does that make you our dad?” Cocila raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “We do live with you.”  
“Hush, and go.” Stimi grimaced. That had to be his least favorite thing to be called. “I’m not your dad.”   
“Oh, yeah, dads don’t prepare their kids to be slaughtered.” Cocila ran out of the room. He laughed as he did.  
Stimi grimaced, looking over what he’d scribbled down earlier. No surprise blood pressure spikes, which was good. Any unusual adrenaline rushes would mean the determination was starting to overwhelm his body. The soul would still last after death, but Cocila would be in constant pain until he was finally killed. Stimi wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.  
Dr. Pala would, though. Which reminded him that he needed to talk with him. Nobody liked the short doctor. He scared people off with how angry he would get, and he was not to be alone with Pictus or Cocila. Ever.   
Stimi left the room. His head hurt- he thought of stopping by the store for ibuprofen after he took Pictus and Cocila home. He was sure he’d run out the day before, though it wouldn’t hurt to look. Pictus would likely need cold medicine as well, as he’d been sick for a couple of days. That was the reason he’d been excluded from testing today.  
“Ibuprofen, cold medicine, dinner,” Stimi muttered to himself. He didn’t notice Pictus shuffling a deck of cards and staring at him.  
“What’re you talking about, Doctor?” Pictus continued to stare, his shuffling pausing for the moment. “Is it a list? Cocila said we were going home and eating.” He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “...sorry.”  
“Don’t be sorry, just cough into your elbow next time.” Stimi pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket. “Here.” He handed the bottle to Pictus, and Pictus handed his cards to Stimi.   
Cocila came back into the room, going over to Pictus. “What’s the sanitizer for?”  
“I coughed on my hand.”  
“Oof.”  
Stimi was handed back the sanitizer, and had the cards taken from him. Pictus and Cocila headed towards the door, waiting for him. Stimi followed, pulling his keys from his pocket. “Outside, you two. I have to lock up.”  
The children did as told. Stimi held the keychain up in front of him, looking for the key to the lab.   
“Hurry up!” Cocila tapped his foot impatiently.  
“Hush, I’m looking.” Stimi pulled the key, marked with a purple tag, off the keychain and quickly locked the doors. “What would you two like for dinner?”  
“Oatmeal!”  
“Fries!”  
“I’m not eating oatmeal, Pictus.” Stimi shuddered as he thought of how gross it felt. “And I’m not stopping by a restaurant to get you fries. Something we have at home that we can all eat, please.”  
“Buzzkill.” Pictus looked like he was trying to roll his eyes.   
Stimi looked at Pictus and rolled his eyes, gloating about his wider eye sockets.  
Pictus huffed, and Cocila laughed.   
“Would you two be okay with waffles?”  
“...Toaster waffles?” Cocila looked at Stimi, dramatically squinting.  
“Yes. You can’t put ketchup on yours this time, though! I am not dealing with you sick again.”  
Pictus smirked at Cocila. “Yeah, Mr. ‘Weak Immune System.’”  
“You can’t say anything about that! You got sick from Dr. Cor’s cake.” Cocila stuck his tongue out at Pictus.  
“That’s enough, knock it off.” Stimi put himself between the two of them, waiting for them to lunge at each other. “Pictus, after dinner you’re going to take cold medicine. And Cocila didn’t get sick because of his immune system… this time, he got sick because of how disgusting it was.”  
Cocila looked up at Stimi. “I’ll do it again.”  
“No, you won’t! We’re going home!” The two small skeletons’ hands were grabbed, and they were led along the path that led from Hotland to Waterfall.


End file.
